Carolina fired off a text to Blanca.
Carolina:Hey. Has Papá flipped?
Blanca:Uh, yeah. He keeps pacing around the room saying he no longer has ten daughters.
Carolina:He’s so dramatic.
Blanca:Yeah, it’s awful. Tiburón is here trying to calm him down. It’s not working though.
Tiburón was there? So late? Wow, he must be really serious about courting Blanca.
Carolina:Sorry you have to deal with this. Love you, Blanca.
Blanca:Love you, too.
Carolina called her father’s phone, knowing he wouldn’t pick up. Once the voice mail answered, she left a message.
Papá, I know you’re upset, but I did nothing wrong. I was caught in a storm, and it was too dangerous to come home. I’m an adult now, but I’m still the same daughter you’ve always loved. I’ll see you when I return. Love you.
She hesitated and, after a moment, turned her phone off. She did not want to spend the rest of the night fighting with Papá. It would be better for both of them to calm down and talk in the morning.
Enrique returned a few minutes later with a key and two toiletry kits.
He helped her out of the SUV and led her to their room. When he opened the door, Carolina gulped.
There was one king bed in the middle of the room. She would definitely be sharing a bed with Enrique tonight.
Enrique glanced at the bed. “I’m sorry—they didn’t have two queens. I can sleep on the floor if you feel more comfortable.”
She shook her head. “No. This is just fine.” She took a cautious step into the room and turned her attention to anything but the big bed that beckoned her. She fondled the pretty framed photos of seashells and admired the calming coastal decor. If Carolina ever moved out of her family’s home, she would have a place decorated just like this.
She stood in a corner under a lamp, shifting from side to side. She didn’t know what to do or what to say. How, at twenty-three, was she so sheltered that she had never been alone, truly alone, with a man?
She counted her blessings that she’d met such a patient one as Enrique.
Enrique stared at her with hunger in his eyes, but he didn’t make a move, didn’t push her for more.
Instead, he simply said, “I’m going to take a quick shower, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” She grabbed the remote from the nightstand and perched herself at the end of the bed, trying to find something to distract herself from the fact that Enrique was about to be naked with only a thin wall separating them. She heard the water come on and imagined his hard body—the water running down his chest, his muscular thighs. She tried to force the image out of her head, but it was impossible to turn off.
He emerged from the bathroom wearing the clothes he’d had on earlier. A surprise twinge of sadness passed over Carolina. She had hoped he would come out with just a towel on or at least nothing but black boxer briefs.
What was this man doing to her? She normally didn’t fantasize about men, but she couldn’t stop imagining Enrique kissing her, his strong body pressed on top of her soft one, his lips kissing down her chest. And she wanted to explore every inch of him.
She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Flushed from the wicked way her mind was headed, she realized how sticky she felt after walking around all day and sitting in the car.
“I’m going to take a shower, too.” She dashed into the bathroom, where his sandalwood scent still lingered. She took off her clothes and stepped into the steamy shower, the very place where Enrique had been naked just a few minutes prior. As she rubbed the vanilla-fragranced bath gel all over her body, she studied her curves.
She had always believed that her body was built for hard work, though her parents believed its purpose was to someday have kids.
But another thought passed through her head.
It was also built for pleasure. Despite what she had been taught by the Church, she truly believed that making herself and her partner feel good wasn’t a sin.
She rubbed her nipples, and they hardened. The thought of Enrique kissing or even sucking on them sent heat between her legs. What would that feel like? Would she grip his hair, twist it between her fingers as he brought her to the brink of pleasure? Would his hardness throb against her stomach? Her hand dropped between her thighs, in between her warm folds. She imagined his tongue licking her.
Was she ready for this? For him?
